How "much-afraid" is becoming "Grace in Glory"

for your viewing pleasure... precepts and Hinds' Feet expanded... If you click on the first picture, blogger will put the pictures in an easier to view slide show format. You can see my awesome drawings better :)




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Now I know the real "Much-Afraid" became "Grace and Glory" in the book... but I liked my typo "Grace in Glory" and kept it... because this is my blog and well... I can :) May you jump off the cliffs of insanity safety... and join me here in the Shadowlands. If you don't jump that is ok... I didn't either. He will get you off. That's the breaks... He loves us just that much... Oh look, there is another flower!





provoked

"What provokes in you a sense of despair and death?"

Ugh. These questions can split you to the marrow. So I go there and think about that this Sunday morning service. It isn't very hard. After my father passed away...

It sits like that hanging... it has been almost five years and we have been changed forever. Death has come only for us to realize it was always here.  

So what provokes that now? Why just about anything! I take a look at creation and I see it there. When I look at my life, I see it there. When I look at others, I see it there. Broken and messy, this life reeks death. How to live in that pain?

I have lived. It was almost that simple. Life just kept on spinning and I couldn't get off. And I argued with God and I raged inside and He didn't let go. He forced me to breathe and He rooted me deep. He invited me to look and see.

Well you can only hold your breath and cover your eyes for so long. And God being God doesn't let us be. Praise God that He doesn't.

I began to see and hear what He was saying in the midst of all that grief. I heard Him silent first. His silence thundered in my ears and I wondered where He was. He let me stay there long enough to feel desperate, desperate for Him.

And the reeling stopped and I grew still. This song is one I can't sing completely through. My dad was on oxygen. I have had asthma all my life. And I can't even explain what this song does to me. So I won't. But if you have ever had a really severe asthma attack~ you might just get it.

God quietly came closer in that silence until I opened my eyes and realized He was right there. And I made this thankful list and I began to see Him. And He was everywhere. Everywhere death was, He was too. His fingerprints and promises wrapped betrayed Him. I saw Him wooing His creation, wooing me. Trust Him. Hope. Believe.

And me, I did.

Now don't get me wrong... life's not peaches now and I can tell you just last week I hit rock bottom (or so I thought) and felt quite desperate. But I knew where to go, and I stepped out even though I wanted to step in. Well after a few days of standing there and arguing, I stepped out.

Pastor shared Haggai with us today. But he started us on the front side of captivity here.  You live, work, have kids, and care for your place of community. Remember you have been captured. It was easy to do that with freedom. But in captivity? It's right there in black and white.

But then we went to the backside of captivity. What to do when the glory of the temple just isn't the same? When you weep rather than sing (Ezra)? What does God say?

You can read for yourself here. But I took "be strong", "and work", and "DO NOT FEAR". (Caps... nice, I need that!)

Mixed in all that, God says, 

"I am with you."

"I WILL shake the heavens and the earth."

"And in this place, I will grant peace." (in this place of death? YES!)

"I will bless you/" (How did He know that was what my heart longed for.)

And the last part has a cross reference in my Bible to the Song of Solomon.... "and I will make you like a signet ring, for I have chosen you."

ah... to be chosen by the Almighty who calls the stars by name. Can I not be strong, work, and not fear with those promises? On my own, no... but covered and lavished by His Grace... YES!

Robert's Psalm

This one boy of mine, he's got a passion for graves. That's him on the ground.

His Sunday School teacher asks the kids to write a psalm of where they are with God. My poor boy is in knots because words are very tricky for him. And to write a whole page and then read those out loud.... ugh. I sigh with him. Then I ask him only to start thinking. He instead started worrying.

So we began work on it one day, when time was ticking closer and closer to that deadline. I hold the pen because who can think when the blank page reflects into your eyes. He has no idea, and maybe he could be sick that day, and why should a thirteen year old have to even do this.

I think instead while he whines. I think of my favorite pictures of him in my head. When my camera died so long ago I started taking mental pictures. And those are even more precious to me than the real pictures. I can call them to mind even in the dark of the night and they never get lost or damaged. But too bad for you, I can't share them. This picture is a bit old.

So I call these memories to mind and there he is... White River, South Dakota straightening the graves, just down the road wiping the grass clippings from my father's stone, and there again kneeling over graves he has no part of and yet he is there. And his heart hangs on his sleeve... I see him bend, wipe, straighten, and sit. Often he lingers... knowing he can't tell the dates or the names... I know he pauses for other reasons. He has always lingered. So why?

I tell him to think about the cemeteries. Yeah, I can be a bit of a crazy mom sometimes. I say tell me about what you feel there. What is going on in that heart? And then I write what he says. He finishes and I ask him to think of God there. Standing by that grave and stone, what does the Father say. He knots again... who can know that. I tell him it is ok if it is as simple as it looks. So we write what we know is Truth.

So here- for those who want to know-

the psalm of my boy

In the cemetery,

I feel like I am in a building

with all the people who have passed away.

I think of their families and what were they like.

I wonder about their lives.

What did they look like?

Were they a Christian?

What kind of lives did they live?

I hope they went to a better place.

God sees me and He knows.

-Robert 



a cracked pot

"But we have this treasure in jars of clay

 to show that this all-surpassing power is from God and not from us."

2 Corinthians 4:7

Last night I fell asleep thinking about being a jar. A cracked pot specifically.

How do I explain that suffering opens up more room within us to trust God and to reveal Him?

I know this is true but how can I ever explain that to someone who is suffering or has yet to suffer? 

This jar of mine is littered with pits and cracks. And I am thankful for them. Each and everyone of them. I wasn't always so. God would allow this suffering in my life and I would howl and stomp my feet and cry. And guess what, the world kept on spinning and He kept on being God. I love that about Him. I love that the most.

At some point I stopped howling and stomping and noticed that lots of people were suffering. I think that was during the time I wasn't in church. God used those three years or so of silence to help me see others sitting at home on Sundays. Imagine that... When you go to church every Sunday you sometimes don't fully grasp all the suffering going on outside the church. 

God was using each of those moments of my own suffering- or those close to me-  to call me to a closer walk with Him. Did I really trust Him? Was He really good?

He gave me this visual image last month in the middle of a precepts class. I hope that in some way this draws you in to Him. Because as you'll see... that is what I want more than anything.

I am a clay jar. And so are you. And if God is pouring His all-surpassing power into me, it will pour out. Over the top if there are no places for it to come out of. And if I am full of myself- well nothing of Him can ever come in or out of me. But God being who He is... He allows and even causes us to suffer. I will never forget the two by four He used on me when I was a defiant 17 year old. God will be heard because He so loves us. (John 3:16)

But if I have suffered in some way just maybe that crack will be an opportunity for Christ to pour from that area into the lives of others. Let me give you an example. One I am willing to share here on the wide web. (Some cracks are pretty specific or a rather personal area that are more about me ~ learning about Him.)

I've got this youngest boy who has suffered. He was diagnosed with Systemic JRA when he was just a little guy of 15 months. We have cried, prayed, and cried some more as he has faced his challenges of daily pain. But in the last year or so I have finally seen areas the God was using his and our suffering. Because of his frequent trips to see the Dr, I had the opportunity to talk with her about God and what He is up to in an area of both our lives that have nothing to do with JRA or this boy of mine. But because of him and it- there we were talking.

Nate and I have also had the opportunity to meet others suffering. He and I pay more attention to those in pain. We tip our waitresses at the restaurants we stop at along the way and wonder about them. We smile at other folks in the elevator. And just because of all those trips to physical therapy- I one day realized that just maybe God had a new direction for my life. One as an occupational therapy assistant helping other people.

And that crack that started so many years ago, has split further around me. It has connected with other cracks, and He is just seeping and oozing and flowing out of my life. And me, I long for that day when all the cracks will give way. When I will no longer be able to hold Him back with my insecurities and cowardly moments, and I will split wide and pour out Christ and nothing else. Because with my clay jar still in the picture, sometimes people see that and think about me and not Him. As He works in my life, chunks of me get blown out from the flow of His power.

And someday... well someday we Christians will split these clay jars wide open... just as Gideon and his men did. Do you long for that day too?

¹⁷ “Watch me,” he told them. “Follow my lead. When I get to the edge of the camp, do exactly as I do. ¹⁸ When I and all who are with me blow our trumpets, then from all around the camp blow yours and shout, ‘For the Lord and for Gideon.’”

¹⁹ Gideon and the hundred men with him reached the edge of the camp at the beginning of the middle watch, just after they had changed the guard. They blew their trumpets and broke the jars that were in their hands. ²⁰ The three companies blew the trumpets and smashed the jars. Grasping the torches in their left hands and holding in their right hands the trumpets they were to blow, they shouted, “A sword for the Lord and for Gideon!” (Judges 7:17-20)



Rich ly remembered September 19th



The Artist Bent- revisited

I have this secret, this glorious secret to share. The words just might not come but I'll type on trying to find them. And because I am creating, it won't look very pretty and my English teacher, well let's just say she might need a wig because of the loss of hair. Look away, if Grammar is your passion. I am really sorry but this might be quite messy.

I read here about God, the Master Artist. I read how He creates. I read here about how it looks. I think of Him there, grieved in His heart and how He plotted destruction because He was sorry that He made them.

I know some artists and I have seen them create. I have marveled at their work and stood speechless at their talent. I have created too and it didn't read too bad. Or would it be badly?

I have also seen these artists revisit their works. I have seen them grieved in their heart. I have even seen them crush the works of their hands, rend their art to shreds, burn it to pieces. And I, being the not so good artist myself, have grieved and ripped my words down from their public platforms, hiding their intent from the world. The artist can not stand to have the creation misunderstood or looking bad or reminding us of our faults.

And the LORD, well He was gonna do it to. He stood there grieving and plotting.

“BUT”

That has got to be my favorite word in the Bible. Everything in my life and yours hinges on that word.

“But Noah found favor in the eyes of the LORD.”

And we see that Master Artist who never makes a mistake. We see Him pause, BENT in His reflection of this creation, and then He reaches back and in.

And if we reflect in thanksgiving, we see Him move in our own lives. Over and over again, He redeems. He snatches the best, the one thing Righteous and He tosses the rest. Yes, He does throw away and burn the trash.

And I think about Him in my life. I think about Him and His moments of fury. I think of Him grieved as He looks upon me. Him plotting to blot me right out of there.

“but”

There He is, on the scene. Snatching what is right and burning the rest. Do you see Him in your life? Can you find Him among all the mess? It really will look like quite a mess when He comes in.

Not long ago, I was telling of how I had been pressed down and burned. How I feel like I have been squished flat as a pancake as the air rushed out of me. Punctured so deeply by those I called friends. And I cried out to Him who hears. And He heard. And then He acted. But not how you might think. I know I didn't see it coming. 

He picked me up, and threw me in the furnace. “Wow, what a loving God?!”

Shall I say it again? More clearly and loudly this time?!

“BUT”

But God- well He fried me to a crisp.

No, not a little warm your soul kind of experience or maybe a tan. No, not even a really bad sunburn. There was no sunscreen.  No, this was a 1,000 degree oven that melts even the finest metal. 

And you know what? Yeah, here is the real secret! There was something left. And it found favor in the eyes of the LORD. And He let it live. It didn't turn to ash and it actually had some worth to it. And He had a plan for it, and it was good.

And He is in the business of shining it up as we speak. (I think He plans to reheat it later.)

And little ol' me? Well, it is ok that He used others to wound me. It is ok that He burned me beyond recognition. It is ok that there is only a little tiny bit of the original me left. Because the GLORIOUS SECRET is

FOR GOD SO LOVED,

THAT HE GAVE

HIS ONLY SON.

AND

WHOSOEVER BELIEVES,

SHALL HAVE ETERNAL LIFE!

Even little ol' me.

Vulnerable among vultures

I know crazy title... but something about vulnerability can make me feel like I'll be picked clean by vultures.  We watched a video in pre-service that I am going to try to share here. I don't know where Brene Brown is spiritually but truth is worth sharing.

I would like to say I practice vulnerability often. But actually I spend a lot of time sneaking out the back door before you can pin me down and ask me how I'm doing. Because I know that I am naked. Frightfully naked.

I would like to think that if you were to ask- I would be quite open before you. I really have a problem telling lies. Even little lies like "Fine, I am just fine". If I say that to you, it is most likely the truth unless I haven't had a second to perform the internal lie detector test. I have somehow inherited this curse blessing from my mom.

That is why social activities and just saying hello can be so dreadfully difficult. Every moment of almost every conversation feels painfully awkward.

Me naked and you with a mask on.

Are those issued when babies are born? Cause I'm telling you- I really could use one!

Now not every conversation is like that. I sometimes meet others that didn't get a mask either. That is always a delight to find. A bit awkward at first (two naked people!) but so refreshing and comfortable.

I would liken it to being drunk without the alcohol to blame for any social mistakes. I have heard that alcohol has that same effect of making the masks come off and everyone has a great conversation or time. Until the pictures go on Facebook!

but more often I find people who have a mask but misplaced it. Or maybe the mask they had has fallen off.

Accidentally.

Or maybe on purpose.

God sometimes tosses them in the trash while they have gone to a closet to recover from a difficult situation.  He's quite hilarious with His business of making us righteous. Hilarious and painful...

But writing, because it is recorded, and talking are two extremely difficult things to do without your mask on. I can see much clearer- but even that brings into sharp focus how really pitiful I look naked next to you with your glamorous mask.

Speaking of pitiful...have you looked at the quality of those masks. Quite flimsy. And I want you to know, those of you with body size masks, that hide almost all of you,

 I will love you anyway.

 If you have taken the time to put up with my awkward social graces, and poor attempts at conversation or blogging~ I am listening.

You can peak over the top of your mask...and say hello to me. If you make a quick exit out the backdoor... I understand. I am quite terrified too.  I will not hold it against you...

Service Sunday: conversations about sin

I am listening, as we all do. I like this community- this oneness. I hear their collective sighs as they come to understand each other or hear the truth said. The tension that builds as we wait patiently for the words to come out. Sometimes the words strangle in the throat and fight to stay trapped. But they long to hear. I long to hear too. We are all trying to understand, trying to grasp this Oneness of Him. The words come and we sit and think. “Is that it? Do I think that too? What is the Truth?” Because all men lie but He doesn't.

“Say more...” Is a common request when they want to hear more. They want to understand better or maybe they agree and want to hear it said in your words. So he asks, this shepherd trying to hear what the flock heard.

I have thought a lot about what all was said. The words I scrawled to remember.

“Sin can be our way back to God.”

“Is sin our only way back to God?”

hmm... I think I remember some words written about that. I write that down. I want to look at that again. Who was that?

“What is sin?”

“...disbelief about the goodness of God...” those words bring that sigh within me and more thoughts.

“What happens when we sin?”

I know this only to well, so I blurt it out. “Separation. Separation of relationships, relationships with God and others.”

“What did Jesus do about sin when he encountered it?”

 We all know what he did with the religious who were seeped in pride. But what about those guys that He broke bread with... What would He do with my neighbor? My kids? What about me? All this filth that we can not be free of. What of that? I write that down too.

We read Lewis' words about not being surprised and how God is rebuilding our houses. He isn't just fixing the roof or the drain and making us into a cottage. He is busting out walls and building a mansion. I think I remember more that Lewis wrote. I find it in his book, Mere Christianity.

“I do mean that wickedness, when you examine it, turns out to be the pursuit of some good in the wrong way.” -Lewis

I think about that, I really like to do that.

My sins are my way back to God. Every sin I carry and wrestle with are all about that broken relationship with Him. I take what He says was good and I distort it with my lack of trust in Him. I reject it or want more of it. I am never satisfied, never content to accept on His terms. I hold that fist up and want my way. And each time I acknowledge that with penitent heart, I find Him there. What Amazing Grace. It is a good thing He is God. We are a wreck... can you imagine if we were in charge.

So I think about the last question. “What is possible to the believer but impossible to unbelievers?”

They seem quite capable to love their neighbor, do good, stay in marriages, raise good kids. I wait, almost worried. Do we have anything else to offer? And then our shepherd and fellow traveler says what Jesus did and what He calls us to do.

“...delight and reveal the Father in every circumstance...”

I think of Him and the path He blazed for us. I want to do that. I want to crawl back each and every time and shine the light on Him. Delight and reveal... what if we Christians pursued that? What if I pursued that?

~walking by faith

"Without faith it is impossible to please Him,

for he who comes to God

must believe that He is,

 and that He is a rewarder of those who seek Him."

(Hebrews 11:6)

     I am out of my comfort zone and walking. It used to be more cloak and no dagger. Me hiding among the trees and hoping no one noticed as I crept through the woods of life. Then all those notes scribbled here and there started to weave themselves into my life. And I feel Him building.

      First the call as a little girl, then those quiet years when I thought sin buried those gifts deep in death. But like all things dead, He calls them forth. And me, little old me, begins to hear those dead bones rattle. So He calls, and I'm gonna follow Him. Maybe it will just be down the road to this next step or maybe He will take me all the way to those hills I love and the gentle quiet folk who live and die there.

     And Ann's words, scrawled and tucked into my Bible, find me last night.

"The things in my life that require faith are all the things that terrify me.  Are we doing anything at all in our lives that require real faith in God."

And her son he adds,

"I can't make it happen, it's a risk and everyday I just keep watching and waiting."

And the past circles back as I read notes and verses jotted in the front of my Bible.

"Behold, I will do something new..."

(Isaiah 43:19)

and further down I read

"...for the gifts and calling of God are irrevocable."

(Romans 11:29)

And I feel Him rattle these dead bones of mine as I murmur with Ezekiel,

"Oh LORD God, Thou knowest."

(Ezekiel 37:3)   

  So today, I study college algebra and hope He makes the mush between my head remember what is really important. And that just maybe I can CLEP out of the real class. And I fill out form after form for scholarships so that just maybe we can keep working towards financial freedom as I follow Him. And in the next 6 months, LORD willing,  you will find my schedule packed and me chewing my nails in terror as I walk all the way He leads me.